


Nosferatu

by UnromanticPoetess



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Dracula - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Movie Night, Nightingale is amused by fictional vampires, Nightingale still talks about David, Starlingale, angsty discussion of Nightingale's fears, but it goes quickly back to fluff don't worry, cuddling under a blanket in the tech cave, nosferatu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnromanticPoetess/pseuds/UnromanticPoetess
Summary: Peter and Nightingale have a horror movie night, and it takes a lot to scare Nightingale. Or does it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to go up yesterday. Sorry! Enjoy the short fluff, and I can basically never get enough of Peter and Nightingale watching movies together.

A pale man shrouded in a cape faced off against an old man. The old man had started their conversation poised and confident, but now he stood transfixed, helpless under the spell of the man in the cloak. As the cloaked man lunged in attack, the old man pulled out a cross, causing the cloaked man to hiss and throw his cloak between them.

Nightingale laughed, drowning out Van Helsing’s retort as Bela Lugosi’s Dracula made his escape.

Peter paused the video and glared up at Thomas. He was huddled cozily under a blanket on the sofa, leaning against Thomas in the crook of his arm. The wind howled outside, turning the drafty coach house icy, but Peter was determined to have movie night after postponing it for over a week.

“You’re disrespecting a classic here,” Peter accused. “I warned you this was about vampires, and that they wouldn’t be like the real ones.”

Thomas had the good grace to look abashed, though he was still shooting the still-frame of the retreating Dracula amused glances. “I have seen films with vampires, Peter. I am well aware of the fictional conceits.” He pulled Peter closer. “And I still say that this isn’t about a vampire. It’s about a foreign aristocrat with a penchant for young English ladies. Hardly the terror of the night.”

“The Daily Mail would disagree with you,” Peter said. “And at least this one doesn’t sparkle.”

This led into a long explanation about sparkling teenagers in the American Pacific Northwest and left Thomas with an appalled look on his face.

“So Bela Lugosi not so bad, right?” Peter said, enjoying Thomas’s expression. “And how have you never seen this film?”

“I was in India at the time, and hardly had the time to go to the cinema,” Thomas said, and Peter snorted in amusement. He’d first seen Dracula at a budget film festival with his D&D group. It wasn’t like he was alive on opening weekend, or however they distributed films back then.

“I did see a much better film a decade earlier,” Thomas commented. “David dragged me to see Nosferatu. That was possibly the closest I’ve seen to being factually accurate. It was frankly terrifying.”

Thomas’s voice had gotten that soft quality it always got whenever he talked about David. Peter huddled closer and tried not to feel jealous of Thomas’s decades-dead great love.

“Somehow I can’t imagine you getting scared because of a film,” Peter said. “In fact, I can’t imagine you getting scared of much.”

“After real vampires and werewolves, the fictional ones tend to lose their shock value,” Thomas said in a quiet voice. “I have been frightened by reality far more.”

“Faceless Man?” Peter guessed. “Demon traps? Molly’s cooking?”

“A rooftop in Soho,” Thomas said, his quiet voice barely audible over the howling wind. “Oxford Circus. Skygarden. Pokehouse Wood.” Thomas chuckled, but the sound made Peter feel cold. “I wish you didn’t feel the need to risk death every few months.”

Peter pulled back, but only to get enough room to kiss Thomas. Thomas shuddered as they kissed, but didn’t say any more.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said against Thomas’s mouth. He smiled. “And I’ll always have you to save me.”

There was a crack of thunder, a flash of lightning, and suddenly the room was plunged in darkness.

“Shit.” Peter pulled away and reached for his phone, but he got tangled in the blanket and slid to the floor. “It might have hit the fuse box.”

“I’ll make a light,” Thomas offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Peter said, trying to get to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. “No magic in the tech den. And before you say that the electricity has gone out, so magic won’t fry the microprocessors, I still don’t want to take that chance. Unless you’re willing to buy me another TV and games system.”

“I was going to offer to light a candle. With matches.” Thomas’s voice sounded a bit hurt. “I do remember the rules.”

“Right. Matches. Should be in the drawer…”

It was pitch dark, as the lightning had calmed down. Peter and Thomas, failing in their brief search for candles and matches, felt their way past the sofa to the door. The fuse box was somewhere downstairs, and despite the fact that what Peter really wanted to do was head to their bed near a lit fireplace, he knew they really needed to check the fuses. A lightning strike could cause a fire, and despite all of Peter’s efforts the Folly still wasn’t completely up to code.

“It should be here,” Peter said, feeling along the wall carefully.

“I will get a candle from the kitchen,” Thomas said. “Wait for me here.”

Peter smirked as he waited; they’d been together for a year now, yet Nightingale still took that Inspector tone with him every now and then. And he couldn’t help but think of him as Nightingale in those moments.

He just remembered that they could use a werelight this far from the tech when he heard a shriek. Casting a werelight, he ran full-tilt for the kitchen, his stockinged feet slipping on the soaked cobblestones.

What he found was an amused Molly, hissing rhythmically in laughter, a red-faced Nightingale, and a yapping Toby, who seemed to think this gathering might produce sausages.

Peter looked around wildly, wondering what was wrong, and then realized what had happened.

“You’ve lived with Molly for decades,” Peter pointed out, trying to hold back his laughter. “I didn’t think she could sneak up on you anymore.”

Thomas brushed water droplets from his vest. “Quite,” he said. “I think we can dispense with the vampire films for the night.”

Peter and Thomas looked at each other for one serious moment, and then burst into laughter. Molly smiled, this time showing her full teeth for effect.


End file.
